


Monster Ladies' Club

by spj



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Crack, High School Musical AU, M/M, except it's nothing at all like high school musical, so more like a high school au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-05-31 00:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6448474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spj/pseuds/spj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>American/Japanese High School AU, featuring a fanfic-writing cult; the always-confused Four Geniuses; a cackling Sonoko; the well-intentioned, but slightly sadistic childhood friends; a Haibara who has had it with everyone's shit; and Akako, who will take over the world with smutfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. in which our fine characters are introduced

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InfinityIllusion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfinityIllusion/gifts).



> ...i'm actually really ashamed of myself oh my god  
> what did i do
> 
> first off, hats off to fins, again, because this thing spawned from a conversation we had and i was just the one who was unfortunate enough to actually put hands to keyboard and write it. 
> 
> secondly, this thing has absolutely no plot. i thought about what kind of plot it could possibly have, and the answer is just, it can't. each chapter (if there are more) will just be an additional bit of "character development," so to to speak, from this stupid universe. 
> 
> speaking of this stupid universe, it's a high school au, except i obviously have no idea how japan/japanese works, so it's sort of like a conglomeration of american high school and little bits of not-japanese stuck in there. i added suffixes where i remembered to, but that's really more to slightly keep the tone of the original series; i dont think its at all accurate.  
> if i have to warn for anything it'd be for a good old dose of teenage misogyny.  
> FORGOT, also, that i made a reference to dangan ronpa 2, and. maybe its a little spoilery. i fixed it, so it's not as bad, but. lemme know if it's too bad and i can change it.
> 
> beyond that, i hate/love you fins and, here's... well, whatever this is.

It started, as most things do, with Kazuha.

That’s not Kazuha’s bad; it’s just how things are, usually. She says something, Heiji hears it, and Heiji loses common sense for a little bit in the interest of some good fun.

Usually there’s no harm in it. Heiji’s always been a sucker for a good challenge, and the way Kazuha frames her sentences… are usually a little confrontational.

“You’ll _never_ be able to beat Mitsuhiko’s score on the next exam!” Classical Japanese, done and done. Heiji now knows the Tale of Genji back to front and front to back, although he admits that memorizing the whole thing may have been overkill.

“You’re not even that _good_ at kendo!” Not good? _Not good_? Oh, he’ll show her not good. Next Kendo Tournament, Heiji won first place by the second largest-margin since the whole damn tournament started.

And so on and so forth.

Heiji’s also a sucker for Kazuha’s frustration and tears. He’s grown up with the girl; she’s like a little sister. Of _course_ he’d try to beat the shit out of anyone who made her cry. Even if she was crying with anger. Even if she was crying like she wanted to pull the guy’s balls out and make him eat them herself. (Which, she totally could, being a black belt in aikido and all, but she seemed to derive some sadistic pleasure from making Heiji do her dirty work.)

“I’ll fuckin’ kill him!” she was howling in an empty classroom after school one Wednesday. “I’ll fuckin’ rip out his balls and make him _eat_ them, stir fried!”

See?

“Oi, oi, Kazuha, who’s this guy?” Heiji said, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Kazuha turned to him, face splotchy and red and nails biting into her palm. “That _Kuroba_ asshole _humiliated_ Aoko today in front of _everyone_!”

“Who?”

Kazuha rolled her eyes, seemingly trading her anger for general annoyance. “ _Kuroba_ , y’know, Kuroba Kaito. That guy who’s super popular, part of the drama department?”

“It’s insultin’ that you think I’d know that,” Heiji informed her. “And anyway, what’d he even do to Aoko?”

“He—he—” Kazuha drew a deep breath, and Heiji instinctively flinched back. “ _He flipped up her skirt to get a look at her panties_!”

“Jeez, woman, if everyone didn’t know that before, they sure as hell do now,” Heiji muttered, after checking to make sure his ears were still functioning.

“Fuck off, Heiji,” Kazuha said. “Take your casual misogyny someplace else. I have a murder to plot.”

Ah yes, with her Monster Ladies Crew—unofficial name, of course, but in Heiji’s humble opinion, rather apt. It comprised of Mouri Ran, black belt in karate; Nakamori Aoko, black belt in sadistic torture; Koizumi Akako, black belt in even more sadistic torture; oddly enough, Yoshida Ayumi, black belt in looking cute as fuck until the rest of the MLC beat the shit out of you; and of course, Kazuha, aikido master.

“I’ll just get goin’ now…” Heiji inched towards the door. “If ya need me I’ll be… not here.” Possibly warning one Kuroba Kaito and letting him know that if he didn’t have a will, he’d need one now.

 

Never let it be said Heiji does anything without the proper research. Google, and the music room’s backlog of playbills for last year’s musical, told him what Kuroba looked like, and that he usually played the lead male role in their plays and musicals. It also told him the fucker had one smug-ass smirk, and hell, even though Kuroba had done nothing against Heiji personally, he found himself incredibly irrigated already. A quick canvas told him that the school had auditioned for their new musical this year last month, and that practices were after school Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. How convenient. One would almost think it was a plot device—but of course, life doesn’t work like that.

Heiji milled around like a teenaged lout until 4pm, when practice let out. Heiji reasoned that someone who was playing the lead in a musical might stick around a little longer than everyone else, but, just to be sure, he slipped into a back row a few minutes early.

Sure enough, there was Kuroba, dramatically waving a fencing foil around and saying some shit that sounded like Old English. His groupies, guys ‘n gals alike, crowded around him after the speech.

“That was _so_ good—”

“Honestly, you’re so perfect—”

Kuroba laughed sheepishly. “Thanks? I just practice a lot, it’s not—”

“Don’t be so modest! You deserve the part,” the teacher said, coming up from behind the students. “Now get home, all of you. It’s four; the buses will leave soon.”

The teacher disappeared into her back office, and after that, it was just a mad scramble for the doors, leaving Heiji and Kuroba alone. Now that the lights were half-off and Kuroba was alone on stage, he seemed much smaller than he did when he was saying gibberish in English. Heiji almost felt bad for the guy.

One quick trip down memory lane to the asshole’s smug smirk extinguished any pity he felt.

Well, that was his cue. All the world’s a stage, is it?

Heiji left his seat and began to make his way to the stage. Kuroba spotted him almost instantly.

“Oh, hey, if you’re looking for Takagi, he already—”

“Nah,” Heiji interrupted, as casually as he could. He wanted to make this guy sweat. What else could he say? He learned from the best. “I’m lookin’ for you.”

“Me?” Kuroba said, taking a step back, almost stumbling over his own feet.

Heiji nearly broke character to grin. This trick was something his dad had taught him. Chest out, feet wide, toes pointed slightly outwards, shoulders back, chin level—gave the perp a feeling of being undermined. It’s great. “Yeah, you. No, I’m not here to fight, don’t look so scared.”

Kuroba took another step back. Of course he did; saying “don’t look so scared” had the same effect as being told “I will punch you in the face.” It’s basic fear tactics.

“I’m just here to warn ya,” Heiji said cheerfully, hopping up on stage.

“Warn me?”

“Heard ya did something ya shouldn’t have done to one Nakamori Aoko. Does skirt-flippin’ sound familiar to you?”

“Oh, that?” Kuroba said, relief washing from his face into his voice. “That’s—”

“Why you soundin’ so relieved, eh?” Heiji demanded. “The fuck’s wrong with you? Flipping someone’s skirt is sexual harassment, you indecent fuck! You think just cause you’re younger than seventeen you’ll only get juvie for it? Think again, asshole! Three months ago a fourteen-year-old boy got _tried as an adult_ for trying to pressure his _same-aged girlfriend_ into sex! Fourteen! If a fourteen-year-old boy can get tried as an adult, then _you_ sure as fuck can, so count your blessings that the MLC is only out to kill ya and not to sue your stupid ass.”

“W-Wait, you’ve got it wrong, I’m not—”

“Guilty?” Heiji said, raising an eyebrow. “Think you’ll get let off light just ‘cause a girl’s accusin’ ya of rape? Lemme tell you: you do _not_ wanna fuck with Kazuha. Woman’s got a tongue of fire; she can be Aoko’s lawyer better than an actual lawyer. You’re gonna get twenty-five to life, never-mind that that’s not even the sentence for rape.”

Kuroba’s brows furrowed. “Aoko? No, no, I’m definitely not—”

“Dude, what’s got you so _defensive_? Feelin’ a little _guilty_?”

“I’m not—” Kuroba took one step back too many, knocking into a conveniently-placed can of pink paint on the ground. Who the fuck leaves paint lying around uncovered on a stage? Why the fuck’d they need that much paint anyway? The universe works in mysterious ways, sometimes. With a yell and a crash, Kuroba fell backwards, landing ass-first in a rapidly growing pool of paint.

“You’ve got the wrong guy,” Kuroba coughed, even as Heiji ran over to help him up and inspect the damage. “I’m _Kudo Shinichi_ , not Kuroba Kaito.”

“A likely story,” Heiji said, while calculating how many paper towels they’d need to clean the mess up. Twenty? Thirty? Forty? More than they had at the moment, that’s for sure.

“No, honest! Look, here’s my student ID!” And even as his paint-stained hands got his pants even dirtier, he dragged out his wallet and flipped it open to show Heiji his school ID: Kudo Shinichi, Junior.

Heiji looked from the ID photo, back to Kuroba’s face, back to the ID. And back again. This Kudo Shinichi character did look awfully like Kuroba Kaito, but their hairstyles were different, and upon closer inspection, their eyes were even different shapes.

“C-Can you not lean so close? I’m not Kaito, I promise,” Kudo said, and Heiji realized he was way in Kudo’s personal space.

“Sorry,” Heiji said, and leaned back. He glanced over at the spilt paint, then at Kudo’s stained clothing. “I’ll help ya clean that up. And let’cha borrow my jacket. It’s my bad that it looks like a murder scene from Rangan Donpa; you shouldn’t haveta go home lookin’ like a murderer too.”

“Oh, you like that series too?” Kudo said and—god damn it, they even had the same, shit-eating smug-ass grin. That had to be annoying. Heiji offered up a quick prayer for Nakamori Aoko’s sanity, although, she probably didn’t have it anymore. He knew that if _his_ childhood friend were that deranged, _he_ wouldn’t be—oh wait, his childhood friend _was_ that deranged, so he could say with empirical evidence that he was definitely no longer sane.

“Yeah,” Heiji agreed, returning to the topic at hand. “The first game’s mysteries were pretty easy, but the second game got way convoluted. That one with the thing?”

“Murder-ception,” Kudo said with a grin, pushing open the door to the boy’s bathroom with his shoulder.

Heiji nodded his thanks and made a beeline for the sinks. “Now I just feel like a murderer,” he complained as he washed the pink stuff from his hands and watched it swirl down the drain.

“I think since I knocked the paint over, I’m the actual murderer,” Kudo objected. “You were just the accomplice, and accomplices don’t get punished or rewarded.”

“That’s true,” Heiji allowed, drying his hands and collecting as many paper towels from the dispenser as his conscience would let him. “Well, with any luck, no one will spray the stage with luminol and we’ll escape undetected.”

“Agreed.”

Heiji shoved open the door and motioned for Kudo to go through first.

“Thanks… Oh, hey, what’s your name?” Kudo asked, turning to Heiji.

“Oh, yeah, I never told you, didn’t I?” Heiji realized. “I’m Hattori Heiji. Nice ta meetcha.”

“Kudo Shinichi,” Kudo said with an answering grin. “Nice to meet you.”

 

While Shinichi spent his Wednesday afternoon being mistaken for a skirt-flipper, Kaito spent his running from those who would accuse him of skirt-flipping. Defamation and libel, all of it! As if he would ever do something so _base_. Only an amateur magician would _actually_ flip someone’s skirt. Kaito was beyond that. Kaito used _statistics_.

See, Kaito knew that Aoko, despite all her violent, mop-wielding ways, liked to fancy herself a cute, innocent young maiden, which meant that she preferred white panties. In fact, her underwear selection was seventy to eighty percent white panties. That left about twenty-five percent left for other colors. Aoko, when not in school uniform, preferred the colors white, yellow, and pink. This choice in outerwear was reflected in her selection of panty color. However, there was _one_ major exception, and that was when she was feeling _especially_ good. If Aoko was in an unreasonably good mood, she went red one-hundred percent of the time—crimson, scarlet, Scarlett O'Hara-type red—and, being Aoko’s childhood friend who walked with her every day to school, Kaito fancied he knew when she was in a good mood.

She was _definitely_ in a good mood that day.

Less, perhaps, after Kaito outed her panty color, but good things can’t last forever.

(And yeah, maybe Kaito had to peek under her skirt a few times to get those statistics, but the important thing was that he hadn’t peeked under her skirt _today_ , and he had never actually _flipped_ her skirt—important distinction, and it will keep him out of court one day.)

“You’ll never catch me!” Kaito laughed over his shoulder. A slightly delayed enraged roar told him Aoko was about seven meters back, and didn’t have a hope of catching up to him. Kaito began to slow down. His plan wouldn’t work if he didn’t let her catch up to him.

Kaito felt around in his pockets for the fishing wire and grappling hook he always kept on him, in case a situation like this ever arose.  

Feeling very confident, he turned the corner, only to run face first into their resident British exchange student, and Colossal Pain-in-the-Ass, Hakuba Saguru. The collision sent them both sprawling onto the linoleum floor, and left Kaito disoriented long enough for Aoko’s broomstick-turned-javelin to nail him in the back as he tried to get up again.

“Kaito, I’ll _end_ you!” Aoko shrieked. Corresponding war cries arose from Aoko’s posse, an Amazonian tribe.

Kaito groaned. Dealing with Aoko in close rage combat was like asking for death. Dealing with Aoko _and_ her freakishly violent princesses was like asking to be brutally murdered in your front lawn as they ransack your house before burning it down to the ground, leaving your family out in the cold and in a pile of debt. Kaito’s had a lot of time to think about this.

“Kuroba, what have you done this time?” Hakuba had managed to sit up, looking neat and unruffled as ever. “Have you insulted Aoko-san’s virtue again?”

Kaito gnashed his teeth and scowled at the stupid Brit. If it were _any_ other guy, he could reasonably expect assistance. No one would leave a fellow set of balls out to be crushed by the Amazonian tribe— _except_ Hakuba, because he sucked. He sucked the most. He was the suckiest sucking suck-face in all of sucktown.

 _Somehow_ he had gotten past Aoko’s considerable defenses and charmed her so she had turned against Kaito in favor of the smarmy-faced bastard, and Kaito _will not forgive him_.

Aoko used to forgive Kaito every time he teased her a little, but now, at the mercy of what must be Hakuba’s black magic, she refuses to let him go until he’s paid some kind of reparation to her—usually through some horrible information trade. One time she demanded to see his briefs—his _briefs_. A man’s jewel-box is private, woman! But at the business end of a mop, what could he do? He could only surrender his favorite yellow-duckie pair to her evil hands.

It’s all Hakuba’s fault. She was never this cruel to him _before_ Hakuba came.

Aoko’s steps came to a stop about a meter away from Kaito. Kaito lay still on the ground, closing his eyes and controlling his breathing. If playing dead worked for a bear, it might work for Aoko too.

He heard Hakuba stand up. “Ah, Aoko-san. I assume you’re looking for this deadbeat?”

“Oh, Saguru-san!” There it is. That stupid, simpering, all of a sudden too-cute voice that Kaito _hated_. “Thank you for stopping him.”

There was a pause and a rustle of cloth as Hakuba bowed. “It was no trouble at all. I was simply… in the right place at the right time, I suppose.”

It was magic! Black magic! Why couldn’t Aoko see it?

“In that case, thank you anyway, Saguru-san. I’ll just take care of Kaito _real_ quick.”

Kaito made a quick calculation in his head. Probability of Aoko buying his play-dead ruse: 0%. Probability of her killing him if he stayed for another second: 100%. Probability of being able to escape when she and her battalion of crazy women were so close: 40%. 45% if he managed to surprise them. He’d have to take that risk.

Kaito leapt to his feet, sliding out his grappling hook and hurling it into Hakuba’s back so he’d stumble into Aoko’s arms. That should buy him at least two seconds. “I’d love to stay and play, but another day!” he cried, already sprinting down the hall.

One. Two.

A belated cry, a quick shout of, “Sorry!” and the chase began again.

Just a typical Wednesday.

 

 

From: Ran  
To: Sonoko  
Hey mrs. Kudo told me Shinichi came back with a new jacket? Apparently someone lent it to him, who do you think it is? she said it was brown leather with and lines down the front

From: Sonoko  
To: Ran  
OMGGGGG lemme check real quick

To: Club  
From: Sonoko  
Hey anyone know a guy who has a jacket like this?  
<image attached>

To: Sonoko  
From: Aya  
OMGGGG I saw hattori with that jacket this morning!!!!

To: Sonoko  
From: Naoko  
HATTORI HEIJI ITS HATTORI HEIJI’S SIGNATURE JACKET OMG

To: Sonoko  
From: Rie  
Tons of guys wear that coat

To: Sonoko  
From: Mi  
I think I saw some guy from school wear that but isn’t it a men’s jacket? Why would you want that?

To: Sonoko  
From: Amile  
Literally tons of people on the street wear jackets like that youre gonna have to be more specific

To: Sonoko  
From: Mei  
Didn’t kin wear that like a week ago?

To: Sonoko  
From: Manami  
Idk but I bet rie knows

To: Sonoko  
From: Kazuha  
WHAT DID HEIJI DO

From: Sonoko  
To: Club  
EMERGENCY MEETING RIGHT NOW

To: Sonoko  
From: Rie  
k

To: Sonoko  
From: Mei  
k

To: Sonoko  
From: Manami  
k

To: Sonoko  
From: Mi  
k

To: Sonoko  
From: Amile  
k

To: Sonoko  
From: Aya  
k

To: Sonoko  
From: Naoko  
k

To: Club  
From: Akako  
kufufufufu

To: Akako  
From: Rie  
STOP HITTING REPLY ALL

 

“Okay,” Sonoko said seriously, once they had all assembled in Sokoko’s living room. “This is _serious_. Where’s Kazuha?”

Rie raised her hand, eyes glued to her phone. “She just texted me; said she’d be here in a minute.”

Sonoko nodded. “Good. We got some _breaking news_ today from Ran and it requires _immediate_ attention, but I wanna wait for Kazuha to get here.”

“I bet I know,” Akako announced from the corner.

“Don’t spoil it!” Ran said. Her gentle face was shining in a way that it seldemn does, with joy and a little bit of mischief. Sonoko was proud to say that her little Ran was growing up.

“Alright, alright, I’m here, what is it?” Kazuha groused from the doorway.

“We think we saw Shinichi wearing Hattori-kun’s jacket today,” Ran blurted out.

“What?!” Kazuha shrieked.

Ran nodded rapidly. “Mrs. Kudo texted me to tell me Shinichi came home wearing a jacket that wasn’t his, and sent me a description. Sonoko found the closest match online and—”

“It’s _Heiji’s_ , that _stupid idiot_.”

“ _Hattori Heiji_ ,” Aya swooned, draping herself all over Naoko’s lap.

“Who’s Hattori Heiji?” Rie demanded.

Aya sat up, almost nailing Naoko in the chin. “Only the _hottest baseball player in the entire school_ ,” she said. “Me ‘n Naoko have been trying to up his popularity for _ages_ now.”

“Oh, is he that guy who was rimming Shinichi in that fic you wrote?” Manami wondered.

“That’s the one!” Aya said brightly.

Naoko frowned. “You didn’t show me that one.”

Aya patted her on the thigh. “I didn’t want you to read my smut, darling. That was my first one. It was kind of bad.”

Manami laughed. “Oh, yeah. I don’t think people can _actually_ bend like that.”

Aya shrugged. “You live and learn.”

“If he’s so hot, then how come we haven’t heard of him before?” Mei asked suspiciously.

Aya rolled her eyes. “Duh, you guys were _totally_ on the KaiShin bandwagon.”

“Can you blame them?” Naoko said quietly. “Kuroba-kun flirts with everything he sees, and he and Kudo-kun are often on the stage together.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, now you guys will know how totally awesome _my_ OTP is,” Aya pouted.

“Can we see this ‘Hattori Heiji’?” Amile requested. “If there’s a new ship sailing I want to keep my eyes on it.”

“Kazuha, do you mind?” Sonoko asked.

Kazuha shrugged. “I can’t believe that moron scored, but yeah, sure.” She dug out her phone and flipped through it. “Here’s Heiji at his last game.”

She held out her phone, and all at once, the entire room burst into squeals, coos, and sighs.

“I can’t believe we’ve never seen this guy before,” Rie said excitedly. “Oh my god, this is perfect. I can already imagine—”

“A library scene!” Mi finished for her, blushing. “Two opposite personalities—yet so similar, clashing and melding behind a bookcase—”

“Or on the _stage_ , oh my god—”

“Three steps aheada ya,” Aya said, brandishing her backpack. “I’ve already gotten started on that fic.”

Mei lunged for her. “Gimme!”

“Not until I’m done with it!” Aya said, holding her backpack above her head. “You’ll get it in about a week.”

Mei groaned. “I _hate_ you.”

“Editing _is_ a thing.”

“I’m gonna go compile a profile on Heiji, then,” Kazuha said, heading for the door. “If Ran can find out anything else on Kudo-kun…”

“I’ll have it by the end of the week,” Ran promised.

Sonoko smiled, satisfied. “Meeting adjourned!”

In her corner, Akako cackled. With the addition of a new plaything, the club’s hearts and imaginations (and ovaries) may make the coming weeks very fun indeed.  


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kazuha has a plan, and mobilizes the terrifying forces of both Ai and Hakuba to get what she wants. Heiji goes on an awkward-ass date with Kaito, and then turns into a cosplayer. (No, ya disgusting pervert, not THAT kind of cosplayer.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted to get this over with so bad  
> so i did it  
> this thing strangled the life out of me probably and i worked so hard on the date that the fun died   
> so here we are!

Ai is, more or less, above everything. By above, she means morally above, intellectually above, and physically above, since she is quite tall.

The operative definition of being above everything is that she isn’t in Ran’s little ‘club’ and doesn’t waste her time writing fanfiction. What’s the point? Why fantasize about something when you could make it real with a little bit of science and video-record it?

“If a picture is worth a thousand words, consider what a movie would be,” Ai said to Ayumi, who was loitering around Ai’s lab bench.

“Umm…”

“Well, technically it would be nothing, unless we produced it and sold it. Or we uploaded it to PornHub—amateur earnings, although low, are not unsubstantial. Porn is a huge industry in the US.”

Ayumi laughed slightly desperately. “Ai-chan, that isn’t really…”

“We should always consider maximizing benefits and minimizing costs, Ayumi-san,” Ai said.

“Ohhh?” Sonoko said from the doorway, eyebrow raised. “Do I hear some non-Club authorized entrepreneurial work going on?”

“I’m never going to join your stupid club, Sonoko, so don’t bother me again,” Ai said flatly.

Ayumi leapt from the bench, waving her hands frantically. “W-What she means is, she doesn’t want to join your club right now! Please don’t be offended, Sonoko-chan!”

Sonoko, who had been glaring at Ai, turned to Ayumi, smiling sweetly. “Thank you, Ayumi-chan. Anyway, that’s not what I’m here about.”

Ai rolled her eyes and turned to Sonoko. “If I let you pitch this to me, you _won’t_ be coming here again for the next three months.”

“School is only in session for another two and a half,” Ayumi pointed out.

“Two and a half.”

“I’ll agree to two,” Sonoko said.

Ai narrowed her eyes, but Sonoko didn’t back down. Brave, Ai noted, for someone who was staring down a person with HCl in their right hand. “Fine. Two. You got sixty seconds.”

“Trust me,” Sonoko said, smiling a shark’s grin. “You won’t regret it.”

 

Ai liked Kudo’s mother. She was strong, smart, brave, and a little bit of a dick. The ingredients for success. Ai would know. She’s a chemist.

“Ai-chan! It’s rare to see you over! Do you have a playdate with Shinichi; he never said anything!” Yukiko cheered.

“No, Mrs. Kudo,” Ai said. “I’m here to ask you for a favor.”

Yukiko’s eyebrows rose into her hair and the sky beyond. “Oh? Are you sure you don’t want to ask Yusaku or Shinichi? They’re the detectives in this house, you know.”

Ai shook her head. “No. I’m pretty sure this is something only you can do.”

Yukiko’s expression resembled the Cheshire’s, slit-eyed and twice as smug. Ai suddenly understood where Kudo got his collection of smug expressions, and began to regret every decision she’s made up until now very deeply.

“Go on,” Yukiko said sweetly.

Ai sighed.

 

Ai only knew half the story.

Actually, once again, it started with Kazuha.

Being Heiji’s best friend, Kazuha now had a mission. A mission to create an extensive profile on Hattori Heiji for the use of the club. What the girls saw in him _she_ didn’t know—alright, that was a little harsh. Sure, he was good looking, smart, and an honestly good person, of course, or else she wouldn’t be friends with him, but she really wouldn’t want to date him. Beyond the stress of dating someone who barely remembers the day of the week, much less date nights and birthdays, the guy has a whole _host_ of deep psychological scarring, and Kazuha doesn’t think she can deal with that as a girlfriend.

Although now that she’s on that train of thought, the psychological scarring is probably what’s attractive to the girls. Note to self, add vague description and some made-up details of Heiji’s home life to the profile. (Heiji deserved _some_ privacy, after all.)

The point is, being Heiji’s best friend, Kazuha is privy to some information that some outsiders may not be. For example, on that fated day when Heiji met Kudo, Kazuha had been subjected to four hours of what she called fangirling, and what he called “problem-solving.”

“It’s that _stupid_ juxtaposition between that smug-ass grin he has—you know like, the smuggest, ass-iest grin a guy could have? Like the kind of grin that suggests, ‘I know something you don’t and I’m _definitely_ right,’ but, like, worse. It’s _so_ annoying. When we started talking about how soon we figured out the Rangan Donpa cases, and how many clues I needed to solve it he did that thing where he goes, ‘A-le-le?’ How fucking _annoying_ , like, way to fucking _patronize_ me with an expression _grade-schoolers_ use, what a _dick_! And in the end he needed the same amount of clues anyway! Who fucking _does_ that? But, like, y’know, the guy’s charismatic up to his ears, it’s _ridiculous_. His smile lights up everyone’s fucking world—don’t look at me like that, Kazuha, I _know_ you are; it’s not just me, it’s _literally everyone_ , he’s like Ellery fuckin’ Queen! I don’t know how he does it, but if he so much as half-smiles in your direction, BOOM, that’s it, you’re done for and you’ve officially become a Kudo Fangirl. I don’t _want_ to be a Kudo fangirl, Kazuha! _I’m just as good a detective as he is_!”

And on it went.

For four hours.

Honestly, Kazuha should get paid for this shit, because by the end of it, all she had to do was mildly bring up how they had been at this for four hours for Heiji to reluctantly admit, “Alright, maybe I’ve got a _bit_ of a problem—”

“I think you mean crush. And by ‘crush,’ I mean ‘head over heels.’”

“I’m _not_ a fangirl!” Heiji snapped.

Ah, Kazuha thought she saw where the problem was. “I have an idea. And it’s scientific, so you can’t even complain. If you want, I can even write you a grant proposal.”

Heiji snorted. “Don’t; I know you’ll end up doing what you want anyway.”

“Point,” Kazuha acquiesced. “Still, I’ll feel better if I have your verbal and written consent. Consent is very important, you know.”

She could hear Heiji roll his eyes, and half a second later she got a text, and Heiji droning in her ear, “I give Toyama Kazuha permission to perform upon my body and psyche her accursed experiments with no repercussions reflected onto her or her loved ones. Is that good enough?”

Kazhua studied the text. “A little sarcastic, but it’ll have to do. I’ll mail you in an hour, Heiji, and all you have to do is follow my instructions.”

“Yessir,” Heiji said, and hung up.

Kazuha stared at her phone for a moment. What was she even doing? This was stupid. Then, she recalled her age and shrugged. What was a teenager, if not a little stupid?

From: Kazuha  
To: Aoko  
Hey aoko chan I need your help

From: Aoko  
To: Kazuha  
yeah no problem whatsup?

 

[Saturday, 11AM, A Park in Tokyo]

Kazuha lit up when she saw Aoko heading her way with a shock of black hair in tow. “Aoko-chan! Thank you so much for helping me arrange all this.”

Aoko let go of Kaito’s ear and smiled brightly at Kazuha. “It’s no problem, Kazuha-chan. I’m always glad to help out a sister in need.”

They giggled and high-fived.

“Oi, woman, tell me why you made me dress up for this?” Heiji grumbled. “If I’m just going to be your mule for today I don’t know why I have to be all formal and shit.”

“Heiji, be quiet,” Kazuha said. “The grownups are talking.”

Possibly sensing escape in a potential ally, the black hair took the opportunity to whine from the ground, “But Aokooo, I’m _dying_.”

Aoko’s face twisted in disgust. “Maybe they deserve each other.”

Kazuha snorted. “Probably. Commence mission Codename Tired Gillie?”

“Commence.”

They whirled around to face Heiji and Kaito. “Alright boys, listen up! Today, we got a mission for you. You two are going to go on a date!”

“What?” sputtered Kaito.

“No!” said Heiji.

“I don’t even know who he is!” they said together.

 “Wow, look, you have chemistry already,” Aoko said dryly. “We predicted this might happen, so we’re going to text you a list of places to go. Just go on this one date, Kaito, or I’ll burn your costumes the night before your next opening night. And don’t think I won’t burn down your entire house to get to them.”

Kaito held his hands up in surrender. “Alright! Alright, okay, jeez, I’ll do it, lay off.”

Everyone looked at Heiji.

Kazuha glared. “I’m helping you solve your problem, dipshit.”

Heiji sighed. “Fine! Fine, let’s just get this over with. Gimme the plan.”

“Not yet!” Aoko said. “We have a couple stipulations.”

“Oh god,” said Kaito.

“One,” Aoko said, glaring, “is that we’re going to promise you absolute privacy. We won’t stalk you, and we won’t pry. Two, is that you’re going to take this _completely seriously_ , or the two of us will make your lives miserable.  Understand?”

“Not certain I believe you, but yeah, sure,” Kaito said. “Can we have that list now?”

“First stop is Poirot,” Kazuha told them, even as she sent the text to their phones. “Heiji, I’m counting on you to make this work.”

Well. How could he say no to that?

 

So, Heiji and Kaito found themselves sitting across from one another in a corner table at Poirot, Heiji with his back to the wall, Kaito with his back to another customer.

Heiji had his phone out and was muttering to himself as he tapped through it, thick eyebrows furrowed. Kaito took the opportunity to survey his quandary.

Hands came first. Neatly-clipped finger nails, and callouses on the palm and fingers—he must play some sport where he has to grip a cylindrical object—baseball, or possibly kendo? His dress certainly indicated someone who was interested in athletics. The efficient, yet lazy slouch spoke of someone who was a little lax with details, but was generally organized. Conceptually organized, rather than semantically. And if he was agonizing that much over a date plan, he was probably prone to over-thinking things, and possibly not very good at spontaneity. Kaito could do that.

Kaito leaned in, placing his chin on his palm. “Well then,” he said confidently. “Shall we date?”

Heiji looked up. “Huh?” he said, most ineloquently.

Kaito kicked back with a careless grin. “That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it? To go on a date? May as well enjoy it, don’t you think?”

“I guess,” Heiji said, although he still seemed slightly confused.

“Good,” Kaito said. “We’re going to go on a—” (good thing he kept a couple tricks up his sleeve at all times) “— _magical_ date,” he finished with a flourish, making an orange rose appear from a puff of smoke. He offered it to Heiji.

Heiji, however, didn’t look particularly impressed. “Probably a rubber band for a spring mechanism. And an orange rose for a new relationship?” He raised an eyebrow at Kaito. “Who’d you give your red to?”

Kaito grinned at him, real interest sparking in his eyes for the first time. “Oooh, you’re fun. This might not be so boring after all.”

There was a brief second of silence as Heiji processed those words. Then: “ _Are you saying that I’m boring, you rude-ass shit?!_ ”

Their date at Poirot was cut a little shorter than Aoko had planned, probably.

“Well, that was a bust,” Kaito said, hands behind his head as they walked down the street from Poirot.

Heiji snorted. “No one asked for your opinion,” he grumbled, digging in his pockets for his phone. “What’s next…?”

Kaito flipped their orientations so he was walking backwards and facing Heiji, hands up to pacify. “Now, now… I was joking! It’s rare that someone can see through my tricks, you know? It was a compliment!”

“Compliment, my ass.”

“Your ass is very nice,” Kaito said obediently, and leaned out of the way when Heiji took a half-swipe at him. “And I think our next destination is a park of some sort. And since I’m from here, I guess I’m choosing the park?”

Heiji scowled at him, but seemed to put his discontent aside for the greater good of the date. See, Kazuha? He could be reasonable. “Alright, then, Tokyoite. Lead the fuckin’ way.”

 

They ended up at a park with a pond, and Kaito wanted to feed the birds so Heiji bought a bag of bread for them to share.

As they were sitting side-by-side on a park bench, mechanically feeding pigeons, Kaito said, out of nowhere, “I like birds.”

Heiji side-eyed him. “Okay…?”

“Quite free, aren’t they?” Kaito continued, as if Heiji hadn’t said anything. “No matter how much we humans value them—from the lowly pigeon, to the opulent peacock, they are all free to roam the skies while we are restrained to the land. And yet, as we sit here and watch them live their lives it is as if—”

He stood up, spread his arms with as much flair as a cabaret dancer, and from a plume of smoke that was somehow shaped like spreading wings, dozens of doves flew into the sky, circling around Heiji’s head once like a living halo, before dissipating.

“—as if we could fly ourselves,” Kaito finished, and Heiji turned around to see Kaito balancing gracefully on top of the bench. He smirked down at Heiji.

Heiji just stared. “You are one ridiculous motherfucker, you know that?”

 

It took Heiji all the way to the cinema (they had somehow managed to get kicked out of the park, in a blur that made absolutely no sense to Heiji but seemed to be all a part of Kaito’s plan) to figure out Kaito’s trick.

“…so the birds were just the distraction—by the time the birds left the smoke, you weren’t even there anymore,” Heiji finished.

Katio grinned widely. “ _Almost_. I didn’t use the birds as a distraction—I used you. You were a _lovely_ assistant, by the way.”

“Damn,” Heiji sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He settled his cap backwards.

Kaito watched him curiously. “You do that when you’re thinking, don’t you?”

“Do what?”

Kaito motioned toward his own head. “Y’know, moving your hat around, forwards for deduction, and backwards for the usual. That’s quite the interesting tick.”

Heiji, for his part, had never really thought about it before. It was just what felt most comfortable for him at the moment. “I don’t do that,” he ended up saying, because he didn’t _think_ he did. How should he pay attention to how his hat was at the moment?

“You do,” Kaito said, but didn’t press.

Heiji shrugged. “Every detective’s got to have a thing, I guess,” he said eventually.

Kaito hummed, although precisely what the sound meant was anyone’s guess. “Did the lovely Aoko-chan or Kazuha-chan say what movie we were supposed to watch?” he said, changing the subject.

Heiji cheeked his phone. “No, but then again, they didn’t account for the fact that we’d end up here this early, either.” He squinted at his phone, and then up at the movie times. “Or maybe they did. No matter if we had gotten here plus or minus one hour, the only two movies showing consistently are—”

“The newest Jones Bund, or Gomera,” Kaito finished. “And we are here right on time to go see the new Jones Bund! I’ll go get the tickets.”

Heiji couldn’t help but get the feeling that this was also a part of Kaito’s plan. The lack of proof was murder. “I’ll… grab snacks,” Heiji said, motioning weakly towards the counter.

Kaito whistled cheerfully in response, already in line.

Heiji was not particularly enamored with this turn of events. So far, Kaito’s been playing the entire date to his own liking, and while Heiji didn’t have any better ideas, he also wasn’t really one for getting played. But he had promised, had _promised_ Kazuha he would make this work. He would keep his temper. He could do that.

That lasted until the end of the movie.

Surprisingly, both Kaito and Heiji were Jones Bund fans, which, in truth, may have been part of the problem.

“Z definitely could have done more.”

“No! He did what he was supposed to do—guide Bund towards whatever Bund wanted! That’s the _point_ of the entire series! It’s called _Jones Bund_ , not _Jones Bund and Friends_!”

“The title of the series is not an excuse to drop details like that! You don’t just introduce characters for absolutely no reason! That takes up valuable screen time!”

“Obviously Jones Bund’s viewers don’t think that! It blew out sales in Japan in record time!”

“How stupid do you think viewers are? Of course they’ll notice missing details and gaping plot holes!”

“Jones Bund is _unfailingly_ popular all over the world, so yeah, I think people ignore those things _just_ fine. It’s not about details! It’s about creating a sense of mystique and wonder, intrigue and sex appeal! Every detail in the movie is _about_ creating that wonder!”

They had stopped in the middle of the street while arguing and were attracting a bit of a crowed. Heiji gauged his bets.

After a moment, he offered his arm to Kaito, saying, “Agree to disagree?”

Kaito scoffed, but took the arm with a smile. “Agreed.”

They continued down the street with a new sense of camaraderie.

“I’m still right, though.”

 

“So?” Kazuha said, sitting cross-legged on Heiji’s bed. Her eyes were unusually serious, and she didn’t seem like she had the patience to joke around. “How’d it go?”

Heiji considered a dozen answers. Half of them were jokes, mostly about censorship or the hitmen Kazuha definitely had on her payroll, and the other half were accusatory ramblings. None of them were completely right. After a long pause, eyebrows drawn together and eyes pinned to his hands, he decided, “Awkward.”

Kazuha raised an eyebrow. “ _Really_? I kinda expected you guys to get along, though.”

Heiji snorted. “Oh, dude’s brilliant, alright, and a good magician. And as far as dates go it was probably fine, I guess. Still felt kind of awkward though.” With a petulant glare, he said, “So? What’s the verdict, Prof Toyama?”

Kazuha nodded to herself, once, twice, before turning on Heiji. “Yeah, we’ll do it this way. Remember that super pathetic phone call where you wrote fuckin’ plays about how awesome Kudo is?”

Heiji blushed an angry red. “I don’t see what—”

“I’ll tell you,” Kazuha interrupted. “You said a bunch of mumbo jumbo, but most of it was about how you ‘didn’t want to be just another Kudo fangirl’—ring any bells? Don’t tell me; you’ll just lie about it.”

“I wouldn’t—”

“And what does it mean to be a Kudo fangirl, anyway? I’ll tell you again. Kudo’s charismatic as _balls_ , and _you_ were scared that you’d just be another mindless fangirl that means shit to Kudo, yeah? You were scared that you were taken in by Kudo’s charm, yeah?”

“ _Yes_ , alright!” Heiji snapped. “Just—get on with it!”

Kazuha grinned. “Then what did you think of Kuroba Kaito?”

Heiji almost snarled, he was so frustrated. “Just tell me—”

“Heiji, you show off every time you solve a case; just let me have this!”

Heiji bit off a sharp sigh. “He’s a magician, and pretty smart, even if he is totally wrong about Jones Bund. Is that what you want?”

Kazuha’s smile took on a predatory glint. “You know he has fangirls, right?”

Heiji squawked, “He has _what now_?”

“A fan following. Like a fanbase. Kuroba’s actually really popular, for some reason, even though he’s a total douche to Aoko-chan.”

“But—what— _why_?” Heiji’s arms pin-wheeled around as if that would help him understand. “He’s a good magician, yeah, but besides that, he’s, like, _weird_.”

“Well, he does. And take it from me, the reason he has a fan following is because he is _incredibly_ charismatic. You’ve never seen his plays before, Heiji, but I went to his showing of _Hamlet_. The _roof_ came down. The girls from the club say that he flirts with everything he sees, and that his words are sex personified.”

Heiji looked horrified. “ _Gross_.”

“So,” Kazuha continued, “we’ve now collected some vital evidence. The first is that Kudo is charismatic. The second is that you like him. The third is that you don’t want to be taken in by Kudo’s charisma. The fourth is that Kuroba is charismatic, and sixth is that you found Kuroba weird. If Kuroba and Kudo are both charismatic, but you only like Kudo—and, mind, Kudo hung out with you for an _entire afternoon_ talking about _videogames_ —what does that tell us?”

Heiji mimicked a slowly asphyxiating fish for a little while before burying his face in his arms and moaning, “Oh my _god_.”

Kazuha grinned. “Case closed.”

 

Having accepted his schoolboy crush for what it was, Heiji floundered around some more before Kazuha took pity on him and reached out to her club for help.

“Hey, Heiji,” Kazuha said one day while she was sitting on Heiji’s bed, phone jammed between her ear and shoulder, and Heiji at his desk was struggling through physics.

Physics. As if he needed to be able to prove ‘what goes up must come down’ to be a good detective.

“Heiji,” Kazuha said, “who’s that guy you talked about that one time. A Mattery King?”

Heiji swiveled around and rose a thick eyebrow. “Mattery King? Do you mean Ellery Queen?”

Kazuha lit up. “That’s the one! Who is he?”

Rolling his eyes, Heiji said, “Only the greatest detective of all time! His deductions are the most _elegant_ thing.”

“Oh? And how is that?”

“He doesn’t so much put on a show as he does command the room with his brilliance and logic,” Heiji said thoughtfully. “Sometimes he’ll set up a demonstration but not tell anyone else what it’s about; the setup is _brilliant_.”

“That sounds an awful lot like Shinichi,” Ran said from the other side of the line.

Kazuha put Ran on speakerphone and had Ran repeat her words for Heiji’s benefit.

“I think we’ve discovered the source of your crush, Heiji,” Kazuha said cheerfully.

Heiji turned red and started sputtering incoherently, as he was wont to do these days when Kazuha brought up Kudo.

“I wonder if Shinichi is like that,” Ran wondered absently. “If he’d crush on Sherlock Holmes if he were real.”

Kazuha’s grin became positively catlike. “I think I have a good way to find out.”

 

Which brings us full circle back to Ai.

Kazuha’s plan was a two-pronged attack. Ai was in charge of one prong, which turned out to be surprisingly cooperative and diabolical. Hakuba was in charge of the other.

“We are approximately the same size,” Hakuba mused, eyeing Heiji critically, “but I don’t want to give my clothes to someone who won’t _appreciate_ the _beauty_ —”

“Yer just a damn cosplayer; don’t gimme that shit,” Heiji snapped.

Hakuba lifted an eyebrow. “Who was it who came calling for help, now?”

“Not me,” Heiji muttered.

“Do hurry up,” Yukiko called from upstairs, sing-song. “Shinichi will be home in twenty minutes!”

Heiji rounded on Kauzha. “This was the _worst_ , most _bone-headed_ plan you’ve _ever_ —”

“Then let’s call it off,” Kazuha snapped. “If you’re too _chicken_.”

We’ve already established Heiji is a sucker for a challenge, haven’t we?

“Gimme that,” Heiji growled, swiping Hakuba’s bag from his hand. “I’ll just take care of it myself.”

Five minutes later, Heiji exited the bathroom dressed in full Sherlockian regalia, deerstalker and all. “British fashion is the _worst_.”

Hakuba visibly restrained himself from responding and merely said, “You owe me.”

“I don’t owe you shit, Kazuha—”

“Danger, danger!” Yukiko cried from the stairs. “Shinichi is home fifteen minutes early!”

“What!” Kazuha gasped. “But Ran was supposed to keep him busy—!”

“I see another girl with them!” Yukiko said. “A girl with short brown hair…”

“Sera,” Kazuha groaned. “She is a walking plan _ruiner_. Talk about the personification of Murphey’s Law.”

“I can’t be Murphey’ed today!” Heiji said, too panicked to consider his pride. “Didn’t you have a plan? Didn’t you say something about something working? _What am I supposed to do_?!”

Kazuha pinwheeled around for a little before grabbing Heiji’s wrist and dragging him to the couch. “Just—just sit there!”

“What—no—what am I—”

“Be _poised_!” Hakuba said, and then even he was trying to rearrange Heiji’s arms and legs into a position that was less terrified and more cocky-bastard.

“Don’t _touch_ me, dickface—!”

“I’m trying to _help_ you _imbecilic moron_ —”

“I’m home!” Shinichi said.

Everyone froze.

Shinichi walked into his living room to be greeted by the sight of Hakuba and Kazuha nearly tearing Heiji cosplaying Sherlock Holmes into two halves in their effort to make the entire situation seem less awkward.

Yukiko was the first to recover. “Shinichi, darling, how was your walk?” she said, descending upon her son.

“Uh, yeah, it was fine, I ran into—”

Sera’s head popped out over Shinichi’s shoulder and she promptly burst into gut-wrenching laughter. “O—oh—my—th—this—” She collapsed onto the ground, clutching Ran’s skirt and crying into Ran’s leg.

Ran shared an apologetic look with Kazuha as she gently rubbed Sera’s back.

Sera’s laughter, at least, broke everyone out of their stupors. Hakuba immediately dropped Heiji like he was riddled with bacteria and Heiji wrenched off the stupid deerstalker and threw it into Hakuba’s face. Hakuba bristled and began to shout at Heiji about how not to treat other peoples’ property, and Heiji began to shout back about ugly fashions. Kazuha tried very hard to break it up, but found herself getting shoved every which way as Heiji and Hakuba almost broke out into a fist fight.

What stopped them both was Shinichi putting a gentle hand on Heiji’s arm.

Heiji slowly turned to face Shinichi, eyes wide like a deer caught in a car’s headlights.

Shinichi smiled. “You did this for me, right?”

“More like Kazuha did it really she was trying to test some kind of stupid theory that was obviously not going to work this is weird this was weird we shouldn’t have—”

“Thanks,” Shinichi interrupted. “This was really sweet. I can see you all went to a lot of effort,” he said, looking around.

“Oh my god,” Kazuha squeaked, and buried her head in her hands.

“I didn’t know you were a Holmes fan too, Hattori!” Shinichi said enthusiastically. “I thought you liked Ellery Queen better!”

“I do!” Heiji said, because apparently he didn’t know how to read the situation and be suave to save his life. “Ellery solves tougher cases, on fewer clues, and more importantly, he deals with _actual_ people who _lie_ to him and have actual _motives_ —”

“Holmes solves complicated cases; there’s also novels in the Holmes series,” Shinichi argued, and then they were arguing, speaking in in half-sentences and constantly interrupting each other, riding the wave of each-others’ thoughts.

They were both grinning.

“Well,” Ai said from the doorway. “I think we’re done here. Don’t you?”

 

* * *

a/n: for fun, here are some stupid lines that didn't make it into the final cut!

“I can’t _believe_ ,” Heiji said, torn between excitement and rage, as they walked from the theater, “that they put a Royal Einfeld Classic in a place like _that_.”

Kaito shifted slightly to face him. “A what?”

“The motorcycle,” Heiji clarified. “It’s gorgeous—but this is not even the place or time for it; it doesn’t even have the hp—”

“Hp?”

“Horsepower—like, y’know. Power of the car. It’s only single-cylinder pushrod engine, so there isn’t much power behind it, just twenty-seven hp, so there’s _no_ way Bond could have cleared the bridge with a seventies Classic—”

 

“Oh, yeah, you and Kazuha are from Osaka, right?” Kaito said, leaning forward as if he was very interested in what Heiji would have to say next.

Kaito was feeling confident. If there was something he knew how to do, it was mesmerize an audience, which in daily application essentially meant charm the pants off everyone he met. Surely he could handle a little date with some guy Aoko for some reason knew.

What he didn’t expect was the guy to stand up and loudly proclaim, “That’s right! Osaka’s waaay better than you tight-asses here in Tokyo!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as you can see i had a shit ton of trouble writing kaito haha  
> will never ever ever try to do that date again ever  
> at any rate, drop me a line and lemme know whatcha think!


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